


then burn the ashes

by rumandraisins



Series: be careful making wishes in the dark [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood, M/M, Protective Kuroo Tetsurou, but only a smol bit dw, mentions of bullying, oh and one really smol non-graphic sexual situation, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 07:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumandraisins/pseuds/rumandraisins
Summary: Serial killer boyfriends!au because Tooru and Koushi are sometimes not as subtle as they think they are and Kuroo Tetsurou is not a mass murdering psychopath.(If it’s just one person he wants gone, it’s not mass murder.)





	then burn the ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so. My brain doesn't know how to let go. Also, I have no self-control, but what else is new, amirite?

Tetsurou _knows._

Contrary to the reputation the dumb bro mask Tetsurou likes to wear affords him, he’s actually a very perceptive guy. There’s a reason why he became the captain of his high school volleyball team, after all, and it wasn’t because he was responsible. 

He is there in a club one night, watching Suga attract assholes like flies, watching Oikawa _let_ those assholes drool all over his boyfriend, watching as they left for home with an _‘and guest.’_ Tetsurou is also there three mornings after, when someone asks to post a missing persons flier in the cafe message board. 

It’s the same guy who left to have a threesome with Suga and Oikawa. 

He raises an eyebrow and then tells her to go right ahead and post it.

Tetsurou is also there when the police come calling in the cafe, because the bitch Oikawa’s been complaining about for the past semester is found dead in an alley in the bad part of town. Oikawa’s been in the cafe all night, the whole week long.

Suga hasn’t.

Tetsurou knows how to add one plus one.

Sure, it might just be a sick series of coincidences that Tetsurou just happened to notice, but.

There’s always been something not quite right, with Oikawa. 

He’s too perfect. Too polished, too pretty, too charming, too smart. Tetsurou’s gut doesn’t trust that kind of combination on people, and Tetsurou’s gut has always been the number one source of his most effective life preservation instincts so he tends to listen to it very closely.

But, Tetsurou thinks, he’s also a pretty chill guy. 

He’s not one to kinkshame, certainly, and if sticking sharp objects into people occassionally is what does it for Oikawa and his boyfriend, then whatever floats their boat, right?

It’s clearly doing wonders for them, if the number of times Tetsurou has to listen to them fucking in the storage closet on a weekly basis is any indication.

“Dude, what are you and Suga gonna do if the owner ever decides to install video surveillance?”

Oikawa’s pleased little sexed-out grin morphs into something much fiercer and much more savage. “I’ll deal with it,” he declares with hollow, glittering eyes.

Tetsurou knows exactly how he plans on dealing with it.

(Tooru says it in the middle of sex, just right before he sinks completely into Koushi’s lap. There’s a lesser chance of Koushi being pissed off that way.

“Ku-chan knows.”

Koushi moans against his neck, and whines pleadingly at Tooru’s slow pace, breath hot and heavy. But his eyes are still focused and clear. “I don’t want to have to kill one of our friends, Tooru. It’s going to be so hard to hide.”

“Hm?” Tooru pats his hair obligingly, rolling his hips in the way he knows will drive Koushi crazy. “Don’t worry. He won’t tell.”

Koushi blinks up at him, eyes bright with shattered innocence, before rising up to claim his mouth in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth and careful nips. 

“Better not.”)

The next day, Suga is in the cafe, and he’s humming an unfamiliar happy tune.

“Found new music?” Tetsurou asks him when he hands over Suga’s tea. 

Suga smiles. “It’s a nursery rhyme.”

“And here I thought you would have outgrown those by now,” Tetsurou says provokingly, because he can’t resist.

“Not this one,” Suga replies without missing a beat, and begins to sing.

_Tell tale Tit._

_Your tongue shall be slit._

Suga has a very good singing voice. He knows it, too, as he giggles and dances to the table already occupied by his boyfriend.

And Tetsurou, he can recognize a warning when he hears one.

But it’s not as if he’d been planning on doing anything about it, either, so really, Suga shouldn’t have wasted his breath.

  


* * *

  
And he really hadn’t.

Honest.

But that was _before._

Before Kenma comes to visit him, more withdrawn than usual and successfully hiding the bruises that litter his back for almost the entire duration of his stay. Tetsurou only sees it by accident. 

Kenma’s been keeping secrets, too. 

_“Who?”_ Tetsurou barks, because he needs to know, needs to do something about it, needs to make those bruises on Kenma’s back _go away._ And at first, Kenma doesn’t tell, but Tetsurou is very persuasive when he wants to be. 

There’s this boy, back at Nekoma.

This _boy._

Tetsurou had left Kenma in that school thinking he’d be safe - he has a team, he has a _family_ \- and instead, he has blue-black flowers blooming down the line of his spine, growing like weeds that’s choking whatever self-confidence Tetsurou had watched Kenma painfully build.

Kenma makes him promise not to do anything stupid.

Kenma, who Tetsurou has been in love with since probably nap time in kindergarten, when Kenma had curled into Tetsurou’s space, seeking warmth like a kitten. Kenma, who didn’t care about sports but let Tetsurou drag him to volleyball anyway, who looked like he was never paying any attention but was also able to dissect and criticize plays like he’s the hundred-year-old coach of motherfucking Brazil. Kenma, who cares too much about what people think, what people say, what people do.

_Kenma._

Tetsurou promises, he’s not going to attack the boy or anything, what does Kenma think of him?

Kenma just gives him a dull sort of stare that tells Tetsurou exactly what he thinks about him.

That night, after Kenma’s left, Tetsurou doesn’t break his promise.

He won’t attack the boy, like he said.

Instead, he just makes a call. 

“Oikawa,” he says into the receiver. “You owe me a favor.”

He and Oikawa, they don’t talk about it. Tetsurou doesn’t even know it’s happened, not until Kenma calls him, hissing accusingly that the boy Tetsurou had promised not to touch is _missing._

Kenma is also very perceptive. Much more preceptive than even Tetsurou, most days. But Kenma knows that Tetsurou’s been absolutely slammed in uni recently, with back to back classes and papers and tests. That, combined with his shifts in the cafe and the fact that Nekoma is two train rides away make it near-impossible for Tetsurou to have anything to do with it. 

Kenma softens. 

Tetsurou’s eyes harden.

“Did it hurt?” he asks Oikawa quietly where he’s busying himself counting pastries in the lull of their evening shift. 

The corners of Oikawa’s mouth twitch. “It always hurts.”

Tetsurou is not a mass murdering psychopath. He’s not like Oikawa and Suga, who sometimes make it seem like they view other people’s lives so callously, who pen murder into their schedules like it’s something they can fit in between a dentist appointment and a meeting with their academic adviser, just another day ending in y. 

But it’s definitely the smug burn of vindication that flashes through his body at the knowledge that there’s one less asshole in the world today and _Tetsurou_ had partly made it happen.

Well. 

It’s not like he’s ever pretended to be good person.

“Good.”

Oikawa glances away from the croissants to smile at him like he’s about to let Tetsurou in on a secret. “Now _you_ have to do _me_ a favor,” he drawls. “Tetsu-chan.”

Tetsurou is ready to give just about anything.

But Oikawa only jabs a finger into his chest. “ _Confess,_ ” he demands haughtily.

Later, on their first double date, Suga practically adopts Kenma, calls him _little kit,_ and marvels at his soft, fluffy hair. Oikawa is only very mildly jealous.

Much, much later, Tetsurou will marry Kenma and Oikawa will be his best man. Oikawa will also let his husband give the best man speech in his place, because he’s never quite learned how to say no to Suga’s crocodile fucking tears. Tetsurou will complain that he’ll never be able to show his face in public ever again, all the way to their honeymoon, and Kenma will shut him up with what he calls Suga’s Tried and Tested Hormone Formula that thankfully doesn’t actually include anything more sinister than stolen kisses, and all that other fun stuff.

But that story is for later.

(Koushi pouts at the mangled body at their feet. 

“I’ve never seen you be this harsh before,” he notes, nuzzling into Tooru’s neck and tightening his hold on Tooru’s bloody shirt. “Does Kuroo’s little kit really mean that much to you?”

Tooru chuckles at the obvious note of jealousy in Koushi’s tone. “Not at all.” 

“Then why?”

Tooru turns so he can appreciate his boyfriend properly, illuminated as he is by the sun setting behind him in brilliant streaks of gold and red. With his glittering silver hair still dripping with someone else’s blood, bathed in heavenly fire, Koushi is Tooru’s angel of death, his white reaper, his valkyrie.

He is _magnificent._

“Because I told myself to punish him the way I would, if he had hurt _you._ ”

And it’s a line, if Tooru’s ever given one.

It’s not even one of his good ones.

But Koushi falls for it, the way he falls so beautifully for Tooru lame lines, every time.)

**Author's Note:**

> Take me to church.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
